


Mouth open, you're high

by smallblip



Series: Higher than a motherfucker, dreaming of you as my lover [1]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Canon Universe, Drunk Sex, F/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Romance, Sex, Sleepy Cuddles, not super smutty but still
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-18 02:21:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29110722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smallblip/pseuds/smallblip
Summary: This world is purgatory. More than suffering and punishment, it’s a test. A test of how the flesh crumbles and falters under the weight of temptation.But Mikasa is only human, and nights like these where the alcohol flows free like rivers, she thinks it’s only human to falter.
Relationships: Levi/Hange Zoë, Mikasa Ackerman & Jean Kirstein, Mikasa Ackerman/Jean Kirstein, a smidgen of - Relationship
Series: Higher than a motherfucker, dreaming of you as my lover [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2135907
Comments: 9
Kudos: 126





	Mouth open, you're high

**Author's Note:**

> Prequel of sorts to Come down when you're ready.
> 
> This takes place in Marley before rejoining with Eren. I didn't read the manga so there are inaccuracies with the timeline/how exactly they went undercover in Marley.

This world is purgatory. More than suffering and punishment, it’s a test. A test of how the flesh crumbles and falters under the weight of temptation.

But Mikasa is only human, and nights like these where the alcohol flows free like rivers, she thinks it’s only human to falter. The aching only gets stronger when she locks eyes with Jean from where he’s seated between Hanji and Connie across the table. 

He smiles at her, a sort of comfortable contentment that alcohol conjures easily, pulling at the corners of lips. She returns the smile. Without thinking, her fingers move on their own accord, tucking her hair behind her ear. The fluttering in her chest only grows stronger when Jean settles into watching her laugh when Sasha spills her wine on Levi’s top and he nearly bites her head off before Hanji intervenes, “now now Levi...”

Mikasa looks at the deep burgundy spreading, tainting each fibre upon contact. 

_That’s going to leave a stain_.

Jean’s expression reflects the weakness of a man in love, and Mikasa aches.

The night stretches on because Hanji indulges them sometimes. There are so few of them left, and the addition of the new recruits fail to restore their numbers to former glory. They watch the new recruits train with seasoned scepticism and it’s getting increasingly hard to ignore the intrusive thought that come with increased frequency as they approach the eve of their mission- _so many are going to die_.

But tonight the alcohol flows like rivers, and it’s easy to pretend to be the unbreakable. To be young and formidable. And Mikasa must now decide if she wants to stay and gossip with the others about their two superior officers, or if there are other, better things to indulge in.

“They’re at it again! Did you see how Captain Levi trailed after Hanji san?” Connie makes a sound like the cracking of a whip, and everyone laughs. There’s not much to talk about these days, and the topic of their superiors fratenising is a sure hit, meaningless gossip to distract from everything else.

“What do you think they’re doing?” Sasha asks, earnest.

“Playing cards... What the fuck do you think they’re doing Sasha!” Connie replies, and soon the two are bickering.

Mikasa looks over at Jean, who has a smug grin on his face, his palms are propped against the table, readying himself to leave, “they’re fucking. There. End of debate.”

“Jean!” Armin says, already he's blushing. This sends Mikasa into a fit of giggles, easily stirred by cheap wine and liquor, and Jean lingers a little on the sound before waving at them, one hand in his pocket, casual. “Night, ladies...” he says, and amidst the new chatter that has arisen Mikasa takes it that a decision has been made. She excuses herself and trails behind Jean. She’s led by base instincts alone as she feels her mind slip from her body. There’s a moment of consciousness amidst the haze, like a candle in the fog. A voice whispers into her ear- _you’ve been good Mikasa. You shouldn’t-_

She wets her fingers against her tongue and pinches at the wick. The flame extinguishes and she prays she doesn't dream of perdition. It’s been so long, and the only thing she can focus on right now is the memory of Jean’s body against hers, firm and unwavering. Something in her awakens, she feels a pull towards him, a pull she doesn't attempt to explain anymore.

Anticipation reverberates through the perfumed hallways of this nice Marleyan inn. There is only him, only Jean. And like the sun and the ocean at dusk, they come together in a burst of bright light.

Jean locks the door to his room behind him with one hand, the other focused on helping Mikasa with his buttons. She kisses him with searing urgency and she feels almost guilty that she’s like this because of the alcohol. That she's this brave because of the alcohol. Because she's been too afraid to seek solace in him since Eren left. Mikasa isn't capable of such cruelty. But now the alcohol is pulsing hot through her veins amongst other things and she needs Jean now. Needs him to promise her he won’t stop until pleasure is wrung dry from her.

This is purgatory and she’ll pay for her weakness, but she hopes there’s enough grace left in her to get out of her clothes before Jean looks up from undoing his belt and sees her fumbling like a fool. They’re both clumsy but the humour in the moment is lost behind lust and soon he’s hovering over her on sheets that are far more luxurious than she remembers.

She doesn’t realise how she’s kissing- all hard edges and quick pressing and unpressing until he swipes his tongue over her bottom lip, “mouth open, Mikasa,” he says, impossibly gentle for the way his fingers are threading through her hair the way she likes, ready to tug and coax and urge.

She does and the taste of hard liquor on his tongue is sin. It’s intoxicating and her head spins. The boundary between heaven and hell now threadbare. Her hands reach out for more, and she finds what she’s looking for between his legs. Jean groans into the kiss and she whines when he untangles his hands from her hair, fingers coming to circle around her wrists instead.

He pins her hands on either side of her head- she freezes in the posture of exaltation, where she’s both the communicant and the object of worship. He grinds his pelvis against her belly. _Lower,_ she wants to demand, _lower where it feels like heaven._ But she’s patient, good things come to those who wait, and soon his fingers find their way down the side of her body, down between her legs. His lips follow suit, planting kisses like rain along a trail, past her neck, her ribs, her navel.

Jean looks at Mikasa, awestruck. Her lips part as she gasps and writhes under his ministrations.

He drinks from the fountain, and it’s easy to pretend they will be young forever.

Mikasa is a soldier, so all it takes is a little swivel of her hips to switch their positions. His back hits the mattress with a little grunt.

“Sorry...” she says, a little embarrassed. But he gives a little chuckle, and already he’s coaxing her towards him and kissing her stupid. She lowers herself on him and that is all it takes for his eyes to roll to the back of his head, hands catching at the curve of her hips, digging into soft flesh, he grits his teeth.

Mikasa has her palms flat on his chest, feeling each rise and fall. She feels the strength of his heartbeat and she wants to cry. She wants so badly to pretend they are immortal, but this is purgatory and Mikasa has already taken a bite of the forbidden fruit. She awaits her punishment of hellfire.

 _Mouth open, Jean,_ she wants to coax- just one bite, it tastes like like ambrosia. But his lips are already parted, he says her name over and over again, as if in prayer.

Jean stills her hips when there’s a knock on the door-

“Jean!” It’s Armin. In her drunken haze, Mikasa feels the urge to laugh bubbling in her chest.

“Jeannnnnn!”

A giggle slips past her lips and Mikasa slaps her hands over her mouth, leaning closer to Jean. “Shhh...” he says gently, stroking at her thigh. Mikasa trembles with more expectant laughter. 

“Jean!” Armin tries at firmness, voice commanding. Eventually he gives up and they hear him mutter a “ah forget it...”

That sends the both of them shaking. Jean is making a strangled face, biting down on any sound his body threatens to make. There’s another groan at the door and the sound of footsteps retreating down the hallway. They laugh when it’s quiet at his door, long and indulgent. And in the coming days Mikasa will share looks with Jean whenever this memory pops into their heads, and they’ll snicker like school children. And they wouldn't tell when the others ask them what's so funny- it's their secret, a little light that shines for two in the darkness. 

In between laughter, Jean reaches out a hand to tuck a stray strand of hair behind Mikasa’s ear. The warmth of the moment stuns her into silence. Mikasa only exists in this moment, and it's so brilliant that she forgets why they are here in the first place. Who they are here for in the first place. She thinks about this when she’s alone in her own bed- laughter, then, the brush of fingers against her cheek. The thought spreads a deep burgundy through each thread and synapse in her mind, and something squeezes in her chest like a vice.

_This is going to leave a stain._

Mikasa is on her back now, and she begs him not to hold back. She wants to see him. Only him. He wouldn’t hurt her, at least not in ways she wouldn’t want. She sees stars, and she says his name over and over. There is only him. Pleasure crashes over her like waves.

“Mikasa I’m gonna-“ he says, but she’s already on her knees between his legs, lips parted in anticipation-

she drinks him up.

“Fuck Mikasa... Goddamn...” Jean says, and when she smiles up at him, sheepish, he knows she’s his dream girl.

Jean thinks Marley is purgatory, a stop between earth and heaven/hell. But they’re collapsed in bed, completely spent, a tangle of sweaty limbs, and he thinks this might actually be heaven. But Jean knows it’s getting increasingly hard for Mikasa to pretend she’s alright. It’s getting increasingly hard for them to pretend that the world will be forgiving to young lovers. Lovers or-

something else entirely?

Something simplified by the amalgamation of blood and alcohol, something to indulge in. A lifting of the lid to let off some steam. Something painfully human.

Jean remembers them as children, arguing over a boy he has learnt not to hate. _You are going to follow him straight to hell,_ he had said. Oh the irony. Looks like they all have. Jean remembers asking her to figure out what she wants before knocking on his door, and the anger that came after. He learns that it’s not his right to push.

He stops thinking about the past when she shifts, sheets rustling against their ankles. And there’s only her again. Her back is against him now and something like dread crawls up his spine. Then again, she never stays the night. There’s something far too intimate about that to even imagine.

“You alright?” He asks.

Mikasa hums a reply, her hands reaching behind her, patting and grabbing until she finds what she’s looking for. She pulls his arm and wraps it around herself.

Jean hugs her in response, _I thought you were leaving,_ he wants to say, _I don’t want you to leave,_ but he doesn’t. Instead, he feels a pang rippling through his body, settling in his chest like hot wax, burning through every fibre of his being as she hugs his arm flush against her.

_This is going to leave a stain._

Jean’s head is spinning, but that’s a problem to deal with tomorrow. In a few days they will see him again- the boy he wants to hate but finds himself unable to. _Don’t worry Mikasa, we’ll bring him home..._ he had said to her, but deep down he wonders if the boy will want to come home. If he will go to the ends of the earth for her. Because Jean would.

There’s loud singing from somewhere and they’re both sniggering again, a rumbling shared between her back and his chest. “Armin finally managed to hit that note...” Jean says, in between laughter.

There’s another booming voice that might be Connie joining in and Mikasa’s belly hurts from laughing. Jean wants to live in this moment forever- her eyes like crescents, completely uninhibited.

“But seriously though... If they don’t pipe down soon I’ll go down and shut them up myself...” Jean says, recalling the many times the singing lasted through the entire night until his friends scream themselves hoarse.

“I’ll go with you... I’ll borrow your knife. Mine is in my room.” She quips, one part confidence, two parts alcohol, and three parts drowsy.

Jean chuckles, pressing a kiss to her bare shoulder, “you are absolutely terrifying, love...” he teases.

 _Love,_ Mikasa thinks about that for a moment. How beautiful it sounds. Like light that peeks through clouds, reaching towards the earth to kiss her face. _My love..._ she thinks it in her head, testing, tasting, she lets her soul gravitate towards the feeling as she drifts off to sleep.

Mikasa stays the night, and in the morning, she watches as surprise spreads across Jean’s face when he wakes up with her still in his embrace. His right arm has gone to sleep but he doesn’t complain, watching with careful wonder as Mikasa slips her dress over her head. He stops breathing altogether. There’s something fragile about this moment, like if he breathes, reality will come tumbling from the skies and break his neck. But who knows, he could already be dead and this is just his version of heaven.

Mikasa is chuckling, smiling at him like the sun rising out of the ocean at dawn and he doesn't even realise he's staring-

_your mouth is open, Jean..._

-

“What were you and Jean doing last night?” Sasha asks, still earnest, still completely clueless, nursing a splitting headache. They’re packing their things, like travelers at the mercy of the tides.

Mikasa looks around at her fellow comrades in purgatory, gaze stilling when she catches sight of Jean and his handsome, bashful smile. Mikasa tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear. The smile lingers on her lips as she offers a reply Sasha probably doesn’t hear-

_“Playing cards...”_

**Author's Note:**

> This was written to Two Weeks and Pendulum by FKA Twigs. I've been in a jeankasa mood as of late!  
> If you were here for Levihan, this fic only has a pinch, I'm sorry, but you made it this far so I hope it was fun for you too💖


End file.
